Arma Virumque Cano
by Kore Anesidora
Summary: Books 1-4 of the Aeneid made into pure and unadulterated Swan Queen. Emma is a Trojan Princess, who's landed on the shores of Carthage, ruled by a mighty queen.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome back, my friends! I said I was done with fanfic, and I lied. Still SwanQueen, though. Some things never change. Alas.**

**Disclaimer: OUaT is not mine.**

**Enjoy!**

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There lay a body upon an African shore

Struck with sand, skin chafed, hair of hoar,

While wine-dark waves circled wooden debris,

The broken prows of ships dragged back to the sea.

The figure moved then with a muffled groan,

Lifted her head and glanced amidst the ocean drone

For sign of others, dear father and son,

But she clutched her head and the earth spun.

With cracking voice she cried their names,

And trembling all through her mortal frame

Came the memory of the wretched storm

That had tossed their ships, the sea transformed

By heaven's cruel ire. Into the water

Had sunk riches and men and bloody slaughter,

Which she had watched with widened eyes

While above had boiled the churning skies.

Stumbling, she made her frantic search

Until through a stand of leafy birch

She saw her fellow Trojans huddled 'round

The dancing blaze of fires on the ground.

Altogether near the sea they had amassed

To indulge in a paltry dissatisfying repast,

Rations tainted with watery brine,

The meat, the bread and even the wine.

Across the sands her son, Henry, did race

And leapt into her waiting embrace –

What once was exigent grief

Had turned to sighs of blessed relief.

Then leaving her comrades-in-arms behind

To weather the cold and bracing wind

Ema clambered to a near hilltop's brow

And scoured the land stretching far below:

There forests broken by vast plains,

There two rives like winding veins,

And there three stags lowered their crowns

To drink, ears pricked for sounds.

Smooth and steady, Emma raised

Her father's bow as the herd gently grazed.

Seven harts for seven ships she felled

And for strong hands to help she yelled.

Two others emerged through the briars;

Together they carried the game to their fires.

There the Trojans prepared their feast,

Tearing their hands and teeth into the beasts.

But even with bellies full their spirits sank –

Their numbers were few, their clothes dank.

Seeing them so, to her feet Emma rose

And spurred them on with glorious prose:

'Comrades, countrymen, conquer and endure!

Of a good fortune to you I assure!

Together we'll travel to the distant seat

Of fated Latium. There our great fleet

Will sail, for there our destiny lies,

Where Troy will once again rise.

Rest now, endure the coming night and live;

Tonight sleep is the only gift I have to give.'

Thus she spoke, but her words rang untrue;

She hid her hurt from the shuddering few.

Still they huddled together and slept,

While she, alone, watched over and wept

For friends lost to the mountainous waves,

Unworthy deaths, unwarranted graves.

* * *

**I'm going to keep these "chapters" pretty short, and I'm also going for a more Dryden-esque feel to this epyllion of mine. I considered doing it all in dactylic hexameter, but holy fuckbagels writing English in dactylic hexameter is like pulling teeth. It would take far far too much time for me to sit down and do, so I went for a loose meter with rhyming couplets. **

**And don't worry! Swanqueen is on its way**!


	2. Chapter 2

**We're back! Book 2 of my epyllion is here. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: OUaT is not mine.**

* * *

From her gilded seat the Queen of Heaven reigned,

And 'neath her breast a black wroth she sustained.

With flashing eyes white-armed Cora stared

Down upon the Dardans, teeth clenched and bared.

Long had the Trojan race been a burr in her side,

She, child-bearing goddess, sister and bride

Of illustrious Jove, dark father who ruled the skies.

With bleak and unforgiving ire she devised

A wicked scheme, 'So easily,' said she,

'Am I to let the Trojans find fated Italy?

Am I so weak? What of me and mine?  
Who will garland, sacrifice and enshrine

The slighted altars of an impotent queen,

The shattered remnants of a disgraced mien?

To protect my beloved Carthage I wrecked

The Dardan fleet, the pious heroine subject

To a ruined city, yet bound by fate

The dauntless Roman race to yet create.

I would that Carthage, if Heaven were kind,

To be so lucky and greatly inclined.

But Rome my beloved city will slay,

And therefore I must seek another way.'

Thus she spoke, but did not sense

The plying ears of an immortal presence.

Love, the goddess fair as driven snow,

Had overheard Cora from a cloud below.

Descending, driven by a cruel anxiety,

This laughter-loving goddess of infinite variety

Did shift her shape and thus appear

As a nymph-like mighty huntress of deer.

When the sun restored the dewy day

And cast the Stygian night away,

From a restless sleep our heroine arose

Donned her sturdy boots and, daring, chose

To explore this place on which she was stranded-

What people here the earth commanded?

Before her gaze her goddess mother stood

In a deep and gladed recess of wood.

Black hair hung loose and long as her stride

And a bright quiver bristled at her side.

Emma, struck dumb by the glorious sight,

Did deeply bow, a courteous knight,

'Forgive me, O maiden, for disturbing your hunt,

But if I may be so crass, so blunt;

Surely your ancestry is divine,

And I only hope you benign

In your august disposal, for I

To you myself as humble supplicant ally.

From fallen Troy we, my people, came

Fleeing that land of ash and flame,

Besieged by the Argive force. Full of woes

We barely slipped away from our foes,

To Italy across the treacherous seas,

Our fleet sought and seek only to ease

Hearts heavy with troubled care.'

Not long could the loving goddess bear

To see such sorrow in her dutiful daughter,

'There,' she pointed, 'Across the wide river's water

Lies the Libyan kingdom, Carthage, ruled

By the queen, Regina – but do not be fooled!

Her beauty is surpassed only by her guile.

From great Tyre, a city beyond the Nile,

She hails. Trained by dread Cora in blackest arts

The queen, it is said, collects a chamber of hearts,

Which once belonged to those that dared

Cross or otherwise her dark designs impaired.

Seek her Sidonian clemency if you must

With wary step, and never rest enough to trust,

For she will only seek to detain

You from that which heaven ordained.'

Having spoken, Love whirled on heel and turned,

With ambrosial scent the goddess burned

Bright as saffron Aurora, who bears

The sun through the thinning airs.

Spilling around her the elegant gown,

And above her brow a silvery crown.

But before dear Emma could implore

Fair Love took wing, to heaven she did soar,

Leaving daughter to herself to tend

And to Carthage upon a hill ascend.

* * *

**Some of you may have noticed that I'm switching things up a bit in the narrative. This isn't supposed to be an exact copy of the Aeneid, just an homage, of sorts.**

**Until next time!**

**-Kore**


	3. Chapter 3

**It's been a while, my friends. But I have returned with yet another chapter of this homage. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: OUaT is not mine. And nobody cares if I use Vergil. No, I'm serious. NOBODY. What are they going to do? Sue me? Sure. Right after they sue Dante and Milton. **

* * *

Meanwhile the city buzzed with constant action,

Carthage, like some immortal abstraction,

An eternal bougonia; citizens – working bees

Burst from cattle dead and rotting from disease.

To the lofty skies as one they soar

To build empires that thrive forever more.

And between them strides the queen with glorious train

Parting the people, like a plow, in twain.

With a sun-fierce glance alone she speeds

Their labor, and to Cora's temple she proceeds.

From the high walls she had climbed

Emma watched, her audience well timed.

And speechless she was utterly struck.

Immediately she prayed for Fortune's luck

In dealing with a woman so dauntless;

A surge of suspicious doubt she did supress,

As she saw Regina take her gilded throne,

Which sat beneath the temple of stone.

Her eyes they burned with harrowing cause;

With ringing voice she dispensed laws

To her people, cowed yet undivided,

And for them their fates she decided.

Just then Emma turned her eyes and saw

The Carthaginian crowd murmur and withdraw,

Admitting a Trojan line through their ranks,

Which had arrived from the far off banks,

Led by Ruby – a snarl wolf's head her sigil –

And brave Eugenia with constant vigil.

Panic shot with urgent flame

All through Emma's mortal frame,

As the queen their approach surveyed

Along the broad and piercing colonnade;

From her high seat with upturned chin she stared,

Face sculpted, mouth peeled back and bared

An inimical smile. To her Ruby knelt,

Across her shoulders bristling a mighty pelt,

And spoke thus, 'O queen! Blessed by the gods!

You, who bears imperial golden rods,

Be moved to a state of timeless grace,

And take pity on us, the Dardan race.

We, who have wandered every shore,

Wretched and alone, your clemency implore.

Only distant Hesperia do we seek,

But now our fortune seems naught but bleak.

Our leader, Emma of Troy, our bold

Savior, this morning left us in the cold,

Nowhere on this earth to be found,

As though, like a shade, was driven underground.

Born of the fair goddess Love is she,

And were she here would give you such a plea.

Have a heart, O queen! Or would you cast drowning men

Back into the merciless sea again?'

Haughty, the queen watched with darkened eyes,

Pondered the speech, then in such a way replies,

'Dear wanderers, dismiss your heavy brows,

For here you'll find your weary prows

A safe harbor. Mine is a gentle heart,

And I'll not force you to depart.

Who in the wide world has not heard the woes

Of Troy, conquered and razed by unspeakable foes?

The fame and valor of the Dardan race

Has reached even this distant place.

My city and myself are yours to keep;

Wipe your tired eyes; do not weep!

It is my one hope and only desire

That your leader also my clemency acquire.'

No sooner had she spoken than Henry peeked

From behind his grandfather, cheeks streaked

With brine. In her seat Regina froze,

As though the recipient of wounding blows,

And Emma saw something in her come undone

When she beheld her young yet clever son.

In those wine-dark eyes a sudden glint,

And in her breath the flutter of sharp flint

Struck. There a dim and dying spark, a flare,

Drowning amidst tossed waters of despair.

The queen was lost, she knew,

For desperate love speared her through

And through. This was a woman wounded,

And by walls thickly surrounded.

Emma wondered how she had become this way,

Soiled in love lost and trust decayed.

If one thing there was to truth that stayed:

That evil was not born, but made.

Leaping down then, Emma assumed

Her place among her kin, while the queen loomed,

Suddenly guarded, as the princess – beautiful to behold,

With marble skin and hair of spun gold –

As though from a cloud she broke

And in such a demure way she spoke,

She who stands, suppliant, before your throne

Is the Phrygian princess who owes her life to you alone.

This my son, even as a young child

From his home and homeland cruelly exiled,

But with your majesty, your kind

Mercy another home he may yet find.'

With a sly smile, Regina did reply,

Yet of her secret treachery did not imply,

'Princess, you seem much distressed,

But this is a place of peace and rest.

Indeed here your toil will cease

For I offer you a glorious feast,

A gesture of my generosity, boundless

As my land is broad, my wealth countless.

For as long as you with nourishment I supply

Your name, honor and glory will never die.'


End file.
